


Every Girl's Crazy for a Sharp Dressed Man

by Telaryn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Breathplay, Chair Sex, Clothed Sex, Consensual Non-Consent, Control Issues, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face Slapping, Hotel Sex, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Seduction, Sexual Roleplay, Suit Porn, Suit Sex, Threats of Violence, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this Tumblr post (http://mighty-thundering-lord.tumblr.com/post/112764299732/hawk-is-a-little-tied-up-right-now).</p><p>Coulson finally talks Clint into an expensive suit, complete with proper fitting by his own tailor - only to have Natasha kidnap him on his way out of the final fitting for a little fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Girl's Crazy for a Sharp Dressed Man

_Titanium cuffs…_ The fit was smooth and tight without constricting. As long as he didn’t struggle too much, they wouldn’t bruise.

Clint couldn’t keep the grin off his face. _Yeah, like that’s gonna happen._ The bracelets were welded together, holding his wrists snug in the small of his back; no chain or fiber line for him to manipulate his hands around to the front of his body and increase his chances. Not sensing anyone in the immediate vicinity, he finally risked opening his eyes – getting a look at his surroundings.

He was in a hotel suite – a nice one, in the $800 - $1000 a night range. Whoever had taken him had propped him up on one of the room’s over-stuffed ottomans, putting him in a corner so that even spending who knew how much time unconscious, nothing was too sore. Thoughts of how long he’d been out prompted him to scan the room for a clock.

 _1:17._ Assuming the time showing red in the dimly lit room was correct, balanced against the lack of light filtering through the break in the curtains and he’d been knocked out for nearly eight hours.

 _Least they could have done was let me get changed,_ he thought ruefully as he shifted position and felt the expensive fabric of the suit he was wearing slide against his skin. Coulson was going to kill him when he ruined the suit.

“Так , агент Бартон, вы, наконец, проснулся.”(1)

Clint’s heart skipped a beat in the moment it took him to translate the Russian. He was still confused enough by whatever had been used to take him out as he turned towards the speaker that he was genuinely surprised to see Natasha posed in the doorway leading to another room of the suite, smiling seductively at him. _Whatever was used to take me…son of a bitch,_ he thought as his brain finally woke up enough to realize that the faint smell lingering in his nostrils was his partner’s own Widow’s Kiss. “Nat, what’s going on?” he asked, pulling instinctively against his bindings. They held tight, spiking his adrenaline levels as she walked towards him.

“Я видел вас там, в вашей портного , и я не мог сопротивляться.”(2) She’d kidnapped him then – right out of his final fitting with Coulson’s tailor.

“So, nobody’s coming to rescue me, huh?” he asked, eyes roaming over the black leather corset that encased her from breasts to hips and the fishnets that traced ever curve, dip and line of her perfect legs. “Coulson is going to kill you if anything happens to this suit.”

Still that slow, seductive smile as Natasha wrapped her hand in his tie, pulling up hard and forcing his head back as he looked up at her. “Then he shouldn’t have wrapped you in such an enticing package.” Clint made a small sound low in his throat as she kissed him – wild and fierce, forcing his mouth open and filling his senses with everything his brain registered as _Nat…safe…mine…_

True there was nothing particularly safe about his current circumstances, he was reminded as Natasha pulled back and he saw the predatory gleam in her eyes. “I’m a SHIELD agent, beautiful,” he said, falling automatically into character. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to get out of me, but I don’t break easily.”

She let the rest of his tie slide through her fingers as she straightened – and then bent one leg and planted her boot-clad foot between his thigh, toes pressing lightly against the bulge in his crotch. “Я собираюсь очистить вас , как лук , агент . Когда я закончил с вами, вы будете просить , чтобы сказать мне все, что знаешь .”(3) Clint’s Russian was rusty enough that it took him a moment to translate everything she’d said, and once he had the jist of it he was tempted to laugh and ask who had written her dialogue?

If she hadn’t been standing with her foot on his manhood, looking like every fantasy he’d had in the last five years, he probably would have. As it was, he could feel his cock stiffening against the press of her sole and knew he’d count himself lucky if he didn’t come all over his perfectly tailored, cost more than three of his paychecks combined suit before she was through with him.

“I know what you want Agent Barton,” she purred, her native accent thick on her tongue. “You want what they all want. Вы хотите ебать мою киску с вашего петуха.” (4)

“Let me go, beautiful,” he said, meeting her eyes squarely. “I’ll tease you until you’re begging for мой член .” At the edge of his vision he saw her right hand skate down the front of her corset, the movement drawing his attention down until he saw her fingers disappear under the lace-trimmed elastic of her panties. Groaning softly, he imagined it was his own fingers working the tight nub of flesh hidden beneath her folds of skin.

Panic shot through his brain as he watched Natasha finger herself; a heartbeat later he realized she’d wound her free hand in his tie again, twisting tight enough this time to turn the fabric into a noose cutting off his air-flow. He began to struggle, raising his attention to his partner’s face again, but his fear was quickly chased down and subdued by a burst of pleasure as Natasha began to work her foot against his now painfully hard and aching cock.

 _Hypoxia…_ his brain helpfully supplied as his thoughts began to cloud and his arousal levels continued to spike. They’d done breath-play before, and the high it produced was like nothing he’d ever known. The problem was that remaining passive and letting it happen was difficult to do when he was bound and essentially helpless in the grasp of a ruthless killer.

Even if that killer was the one person he absolutely trusted beyond all others.

Clint struggled to focus on Natasha’s face again as his vision began to gray. Her lips were parted as she approached her own orgasm, and the look in her eyes as she watched him struggle for even a moment’s breath was so hungry and full of lust that he felt his balls tighten up, his cock pulse hard against the sole of her boot, and his mouth open in a soundless cry of relief as he came.

He was hovering on the verge of passing out as his orgasm peaked, red and black spots exploding in front of his eyes. Natasha released the pressure on his throat just in time; Clint automatically sucked in a deep, ragged breath without consciously meaning to. The unexpected rush of oxygen made him shiver in after-reaction, drawing a pathetic sounding whimper from his aching throat. He was dimly aware of Nat removing his tie and the sudden lack of pressure against his groin, but he was floating too high and too far to do anything about either circumstance.

The push of fingers against his lips brought him crashing back to earth. Some flash in his expression must have warned her, because when he growled suddenly and snapped at her his teeth closed on empty air.

Pain exploded through his skull a second later as she slapped him – rocking his head to one side and setting his equilibrium spinning. He glared at her as everything gradually settled. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Suck,” she said, presenting him with two of her fingers. The smell of her sex filled his nostrils, and as primal and angry as he was, he wanted to do it – wanted the taste of her on his tongue. Still glaring at her, he opened his mouth and let her push inside him. “Draw blood and I will do worse than slap you,” she threatened as he began to lick and suck at the moisture clinging to her pale skin.

After a few moments of her fingers sliding across his tongue Clint couldn’t help himself. His eyes rolled shut and he growled low in his throat – hungry for more of what she was feeding him. “Let me go,” he breathed as she finally pulled free of his mouth. His eyes locked with hers. “Let me go and I’ll put you on that bed and lick you until you’re begging for my cock. I’ll fuck you until you can’t even remember your own name. I’ll…” Visions of what he wanted to do to her swam in his mind, mingling in his thoughts until he couldn’t find the words to describe them anymore.

Angry and desperate now, he began to struggle once more against his bonds. She watched him for what seemed like an eternity before stepping in and straddling his thighs. “Shh…” she crooned, stroking his hair. “It is not seemly for a big strong SHIELD agent to be so unhinged.” She sat in his lap then, pressing her own pussy against his rapidly hardening cock and wresting another desperate-sounding whimper from his abused throat.

“You want unhinged?” he asked, forcing eye contact with her once more and letting her see what she was doing to him. “Agent Romanoff, you let me go and I swear I will fuck you right up against that wall over there. You’ll still be screaming my name when I put you on that bed and finish us both off.”

Clint groaned, his eyes shutting again as he felt her hands between their bodies, working open the fly of his certainly-ruined slacks. “Payback is going to be such a bitch for this,” he said, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to look at her again.

She was actually grinning at him. “Big talker,” she teased, all trace of her earlier accent suddenly gone. “You’re just terrified of telling Coulson what happened.”

“Damn right,” he countered, his more primal urges mixing with the feelings stirred up by her damp, wiry curls brushing against his cock. “I’m actually angling for you to fuck me to death before I have to report this.”

He inhaled sharply as she gripped him, all the less pleasant things she could do to him flashing through his mind in a split second before his body gave over to the sweet ecstasy of her sheathing him deep inside her body. “God Nat,” he moaned, pressing his forehead against her chest as a tremor shivered across his skin. “You feel so good.”

“You don’t want to just feel good though,” she said, using the point of her finger to raise his head. Clint shivered again as she raised herself to the very limit of his length, then thrust herself down again. _Up…down…up…down…in…out…_ There was nothing he was expected to do even if he could. “Tell me, любовник.”(5) She’d found her rhythm now, and he knew he wasn’t going to last…but she was right.

“Let me tie you up,” he breathed, catching her eyes as she rode him. “We can have a safeword if it makes you feel better, but God Nat I need…” With the rush of the roleplay fading, it was getting hard to put a voice to what he wanted – the need she’d brought out in him.

“I should make you go through the trouble of capturing me,” she said, and his cock twitched inside her as he heard the catch in her voice that meant she was as close to coming as he was. “But I think we can work something out.” Her inner muscles tightened briefly around him, then eased. “What else?”

Memory of how she’d slapped him flashed through his mind again, and he thought for a second that was it – he was going to come – but the moment passed as his body yielded once more to Natasha’s control. “I liked it…when you hit me,” he said, his heart rate quickening as her pace increased. “I liked it a lot.”

His partner’s smile said better than words that she’d noticed. Out loud all she said was, “And..?”

“And I’d like to try it with a closed fist next time,” he said – knowing that he was risking a broken cheek or jaw by asking, but unable now to deny her any bit of information she wanted.

Natasha’s breath quickened suddenly; leaning forward, she kissed him deeply and thoroughly. Clint yielded to her without further struggle or protest, and when she shuddered around him and came a few moments later he followed right in her wake – nearly passing out once more from sensory overload as he came inside her.

Time slipped as Natasha worked to help him through his orgasm while shivering through the after-effects of her own. Finally she lay boneless against him, fingers of one hand combing weakly through his hair while she rested her head against his shoulder. “Closed fist, huh?” he heard her murmur into the stillness that followed.

“I think we can definitely work something out.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know what Natasha was saying...
> 
> (1) So, Agent Barton, you're finally awake.  
> (2) I saw you there, at your tailor's, and I could not resist.  
> (3) I'm going to peel you like an onion, Agent. When I'm finished with you, you'll be begging to tell me what you know.  
> (4) You want to fuck my pussy with your cock.  
> (5) Lover
> 
> And Clint's one dip into the language translates roughly as "my cock".
> 
> Please forgive me if I've irrevocably screwed anything up language-wise!


End file.
